Iwagakure's Forbidden Kinjutsu
by de1dara
Summary: My thoughts written in a short one-shot about how Deidara stole the Iwagakure Kinjutsu.


His breath had become quick, shallow. The scroll unfolded with unnecessary force, flopping onto the stone floor with a crack. He cast a glance behind himself, looking for the Iwagakure ANBU that had been following him since the raid on the Tsuchikage's tower. The scroll had been kept there, along with all of the other forbidden jutsu. Deidara unsheathed the katana from the strap on his back, cutting deep gashes in palms of his hands. He heard their footsteps now, and flapping of his sensei's scarf as he glided effortlessly towards his blond pupil. Onoki was racing towards him, ANBU looking for his head following, he was bleeding heavily from his hands, and there was only one way out of this damned cave.

Deidara pressed his hands to paper scroll, and he let out a howl. He hadn't expected the pain to be that great. He could almost feel Onoki's grin, and the ANBU's satisfaction as he was crippled by the insane pain, unable to move. Blood poured from the deep gashes on his hands, and he began coughing up the warm, crimson liquid all over the stone floors. A kunai was at his neck, and his head was yanked back roughly by his golden hair. Shit.

He woke a few days later, weak and sickly looking on the floor of a jail cell. A black cloth was tied around his face, covering Deidara's pale eyes with utmost efficiency. Of course, his first instinct was to reach up and tear the blindfold off, but his actions were cut short by heavy, iron chains bracing his wrists. The clacked at his hands, forming deep purple-and-red bruises on his skin. Gritting his teeth, Deidara heard footsteps approaching the cell, the metal chink of small keys hitting one-another, and the imminent unlocking of the cell. Large hands ripped the cloth from his eyes, and Deidara blinked furiously against the sunlight filtering in through a small window above. His former sensei stood before him. Disapproval, disappointment, and complete lividity apparent on his wrinkled face. It almost made the criminal feel guilty, but all he could do was spit back in the Tsuchikage's face.

The same fist that had removed his blindfold collided with his cheek, knocking him back down to the stone floor. Deidara's hair fell over his face, and he sat back up with more effort that it would have taken a healthy shinobi. Onoki spoke with a ferocious tone, "You stole Iwagakure's forbidden Kinjutsu, you completely decimated the Tsuchikage's tower, took the lives of my assistant and many other civilians, and attempted to leave the village as a criminal. Deidara, I never though you'd come to these extremes to fulfill your obligations as an artist, but you have fallen this low, and I can not express to you how utterly disappointed I am in you. As your sensei, Kage, and peer." He sat before Deidara, who was still scowling. "Your death will be public, in the center of Iwagakure, Deidara."

Deidara froze in place, his heart skipping a beat at Onoki's last words. His hands clenched into fists, and he wanted so badly to destroy the small man sitting in front of him, to explain fully how his art would change his thoughts. To kill. He was only 17. He hadn't killed anyone besides those people from a few night ago, yet he had already been labeled as a murderer, a killer, a criminal condemned to death.

He shut his eyes tight, furrowing his blond eyebrows as he suppressed tears. Damn it… Damn it all… Why did he have to cry at such an awful time? They began streaming down his cheeks, and falling to his gray pants, leaving those awful dark blotches. And then he looked back up at Onoki. "You… what would you fucking know about my art! About the extremes I would go to for it!" he snarled, now standing over the small, frail old man. Onoki sat there, allowing for Deidara to scream and protest all he wanted. He never expected the blond to begin racing from the prison, though.

Deidara stumbled, barely moved, actually, along the stone causeway between the jail cells. He and the Tsuchikage were the only two down there, it seemed. He gasped for breath, and was pulled to a sudden stop. Looking back, Onoki was flying leisurely towards him, and the metal braces had become stuck on a protruding shaft in the wall. He pulled with his entire body, wincing at the pain of his still-healing hands and the iron cuffs slowly sliding over his hands. And he was free. Gasping, he fell to the ground, but managed to stumble forwards and begin running with a burst of energy out of the underground prison.

Sunlight washed over his skin. It was then did he realize how idiotic the Iwa shinobi were, placing a low-security prison so close to the village's exit point.

The hunt for Iwagakure's blond missing-nin began.


End file.
